A new t-shirt

Today I was given a new t-shirt by El Capitan, the leader of our pub quiz team. It has a swear word on the front of it, which I won’t quote, because my mother reads this, and which I possibly won’t be able to wear outside, in case I get arrested for being a public nuisance. However, it is a very nice yellow colour, and expresses a fine sentiment, so I think I will wear it in the office and see what happens.

If you’re feeling in the mood for sweariness, there’s a picture of it skulking down the page. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Actually, my mother is probably robust enough to cope with a fair amount of foul language. Not that she’s in the company of angry-mouthed costermongers all day long, but if you can put up with raising me and two other kids, the odd Anglo-Saxon emphasis can’t really compare for shock value.

I wish I’d got the t-shirt earlier in the day because I needed a boost of energy. (Hard training on consecutive days can be a bit wearing.) By 5pm I was so tired that I’d check my phone, see I had a meeting I had to attend right then, and immediately forget all about it. Thank heavens the meeting decided to cancel itself: if I’d been involved with a misfiring brain and the ability to shoot myself in the foot, I dread to imagine the consequences. Still, I got quite a bit done, then went home to see the wife and child, which is now officially a toddler, as she’s toddling around the apartment. I wonder what will need to be baby-proofed next.

I didn’t see El Capitan all day because he was in meetings, and I can only imagine the painful brainrot that begins to take hold when you’ve been away from sunlight for eight hours in the middle of the day, your life gradually being sucked from you by PowerPoint, hope drowning beneath a sea of interminable corporate coffee. All I had to do was move data around, or up, or down, and interview somebody and meet a few salespeople. Variety, the spice of life.

El Capitan, fresh back from a weekend away, and completely the opposite of fresh after flight delays and 3am arrivals at Changi, wasn’t able to make it to the pub quiz tonight, and as so many others were also hors de combat, I took the night off to read Under The Frog to La Serpiente Negra. So far, she enjoys this tale of Hungary in the 1950s. I don’t think she’ll necessarily like the end so much.

After she went down, I finally started filing some of my Spanish notes, after more than six months of study. I began to realize I need to be more methodical than "just dump it all in a big pile and hope". From now on, I’m going to try to learn at least a verb and two antonyms every day, and see where we get to. Or I could just wear my camiseta amarilla and lie encima del sofa. Decisions, decisions.

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